


That I Would Name The Stars For You

by cuttooth



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Informed by Asexuality, M/M, Mild humiliation kink, Multiple Orgasms, Omorashi, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill, Service Top Jon, The MagnACE Archives, Trans Jonathan Sims, Trans Martin Blackwood, Vaginal Fisting, Watersports, sex neutral ace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22160926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttooth/pseuds/cuttooth
Summary: “It’s about...control,” says Martin, “And - ah - loss of it.”*For the prompt: Martin has a weird sexual kink (or multiple weird kinks!). Jon isn’t into it himself, but he wants to try it out of a sense of curiosity, and because he feels safe and comfortable with Martin. In the middle of things, Jon finds himself getting pretty into it as well, if only because he enjoys seeing Martin so intensely pleased and fulfilled.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 28
Kudos: 377
Collections: The MagnACE Archives (NSFW & Kink)





	That I Would Name The Stars For You

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for [The MagnACE Archives](https://the-magnace-archives.dreamwidth.org), which was a lot of fun to write. Fisting and watersports were two of the kinks suggested in the original request, so I hope this hits the brief!
> 
> Thanks to fatal_drum for beta reading, and to J for the sanity check!

_“Is that too much to expect? That I would name the stars for you? That I would take you there? The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube?”_  
Richard Siken - Snow and Dirty Rain

“It’s about...control,” says Martin, “And - ah - loss of it.” 

He squirms as Jon’s gloved fingers press deeper inside him, three of them now, fanning out to open him up further. Jon licks another circle around his cock, then draws it between his lips, suckling gently, insistently, until Martin is whining, his fingers twisting in the sheets. 

“Jon,” he says urgently, “Jon, I’m going to come.”

“Good,” Jon mumbles, and keeps sucking until Martin’s body shudders and he comes with a drawn out groan, flexing around Jon’s fingers. Jon takes the opportunity to press a fourth finger in, and it goes easily, sliding into Martin’s wet heat. 

“You were saying, it’s about control?”

“Uh...yeah,” Martin sounds dazed, and Jon feels quite pleased with himself. “Because you’re deciding what I feel, how much, what I’m going to take. It’s not like a - a toy, that’s a bit more, umm, impersonal? But with your hand inside me, you’re completely in control.”

Jon nods. It makes sense. He spreads his fingers, feeling the muscle stretch obediently; he crooks them, making Martin gasp softly. His free hand pets over Martin’s abdomen, presses down where he thinks Martin’s full bladder sits, and enjoys his little wriggle of discomfort.

“And what about this?” he asks, presses down a little harder, and Martin moans. 

“That’s - that’s a different kind of control. Trying to hold it, as long as I can, it’s...well, look. You know how it feels when you really need to piss, but you’re still half a mile away from home or whatever. The way you have to just grit your teeth and hold it?”

“Desperation.” 

“Exactly. And then the - the _relief_ when you can finally let it go. Imagine that, but more...”

“Erotic?” Jon asks, and sees Martin blush at the word, as if Jon didn’t have four fingers inside him. Jon nuzzles into Martin’s mound, inhaling the sweet, musky scent. Martin’s cock is still flushed and half hard, and Jon noses at it, gives it a little lick that makes Martin squeak.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “That.” 

Jon considers, while he rubs his thumb between Martin’s swollen, sensitive lips, nudging up against his entrance. Martin shivers as the tip presses in alongside the fingers already filling him, his hand twisting into Jon’s hair. 

“And what is it about the two together?” Jon asks in between lapping at Martin’s cock, slow and languid. Martin gives a breathy laugh, his hips lifting a little. 

“I don’t - _ahhh_...Jon, you, ah, you know I’ve never actually done this with anyone, right? You’re the first person I’ve ever even told.”

Jon does know. He had to compel the words out of Martin, in the end, because he was struggling so much to say them. _It’s easier if you just ask me,_ he’d said, so Jon had. The fantasy had come spilling easily from Martin’s lips then, a litany of deep desire. 

Jon has always understood, objectively, that sexual fantasies are a thing people have, though he’s never quite comprehended the urge to act them out in real life. But seeing how Martin reacted to just _describing_ what he wanted Jon to do to him, his face flushed, practically squirming in his seat, was a revelation. Jon had found himself blushing almost as much as Martin, intrigued by the prospect of a new way to take Martin to pieces. 

So far, the experience has surpassed his expectations. 

“But if you had to conjecture...” he presses, because he wants to understand _exactly_ what it is about this scenario that affects Martin so deeply. Martin gives a little breathy laugh. 

“Conjecture? God, Jon, you’re lucky I find your researcher voice sexy. If I had to _conjecture,_ I’d say...it’s the helplessness, maybe? Trying to keep control while you’re trying to take it away?” 

He whimpers as Jon’s thumb presses inside him up to the first knuckle, his body going rigid with tension. Jon massages his thigh gently.

“Relax,” he murmurs, and draws Martin’s cock back between his lips, sucking firmly and running his tongue around the tip. The distraction seems to work, the tight clench of Martin’s body releasing a little, so his thumb slips in alongside the other fingers. Martin’s breath hitches, and he writhes, his whole body seeming electrified.

“There’s, ah, there’s probably a bit of humiliation kink to it as well,” he admits.

“In what way?”

“The thought of - of pissing myself in front of you,” he almost whines, “Being unable to stop myself, helpless and embarrassed, it’s just…hot.”

“You like to be humiliated.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I - I had a boyfriend, a long time ago, who used to call me all kinds of names during sex, said I was pathetic, I disgusted him, and - and it really turned me on.”

“I don’t want to do that to you,” Jon tells him flatly.

“I know,” says Martin, “I wouldn’t ask you to. But this - this is okay, right?”

“This is lovely,” Jon says, gazing up along the length of Martin, from his stiff cock, peeking out of soft curls, to his face, red-cheeked and blissful. “You’re lovely.”

By now Jon can feel his knuckles rubbing against Martin’s entrance. He grabs the bottle of lube and pours it liberally over his hand, between Martin’s already slick lips. Twists his wrist a little, testing the tension of the muscle. Martin moans and splays his thighs further apart, and Jon feels a pulse of answering heat between his own legs at the sight and sound of Martin’s naked pleasure.

“Will you come for me again?” he asks, brushing his lips over Martin’s mound, down to his tender, flushed folds, then back up to pepper kisses to his cock. He twists his hand a little more, so the knuckles push against Martin’s entrance in earnest. Martin whimpers softly. 

“Please, Jon,” he says, low and wanting. The musky heat of him floods Jon’s senses and he sighs, presses his nose into the damp curls, licking and sucking until Martin is thrusting up against his tongue, fingers tight in his hair. Martin comes with a cry that’s half a sob, his whole body tensing all at once and then relaxing, going loose and pliant. Jon seizes the moment, twists and _urges,_ and in a rush his knuckles slip past and he’s buried in Martin almost to the wrist. 

“Ohhh…” Martin breathes out slowly. His chest is heaving, and he’s so _tight_ around Jon’s hand, so hot. Jon’s heart is racing. He looks up and meets Martin’s eyes, his pupils blown wide and dark. 

“Are - are you all right?” Jon asks, licking his lips. His mouth is dry. Martin is quivering under him, taut as a violin string. He nods. 

“Yeah,” he says, a little shakily. “Wow, it’s - it’s a lot.” 

“Can you tell me?” Jon is aware that his own voice is shaking a little. “How does it feel?”

“It’s, god, Jon, I feel so _full.”_ Martin’s tone is euphoric. “I’ve never - never felt anything like this before. It’s - I can’t believe you’re inside me like this.” 

“Martin...” Jon says. He can’t believe it either, he’s trembling with it, his breath quick. Slowly, he curls his fingers into a fist, feeling the play of Martin’s body, stretching to accommodate him. He looks up to see Martin propped on his elbows, watching where Jon is inside him. Martin’s eyes are hazy, his lips parted and wet, panting quietly.

“Your, ah, your fingers feel really good,” Martin tells him. “Rubbing on me from inside, it’s - it’s good.” 

Jon moves his hand, feeling his knuckles press into the slick muscle. 

“Right there, yes!” Martin moans. Jon does it again, and Martin whimpers, his head thrown back. There’s another rush of heat through Jon’s groin, and he can feel that he’s starting to get wet himself. He squeezes his legs together, letting his cock rub between his thighs. He moves his free hand back up to Martin’s abdomen, pressing down over his bladder, feeling the hard shape of his own hand _inside_ Martin. Martin moans again, squirming. 

“You’re feeling pretty desperate, aren’t you?” Jon murmurs, letting his lips brush Martin’s cock. “Scale of one to ten, tell me where you are.”

“Ahh…” Martin pants. “Be-before you got your fist in me, maybe a - a five? Now it’s a seven - eight. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on.”

Jon nuzzles against Martin’s mound, lipping gently at his cock, and rubs slow circles on his belly, enjoying the way Martin shifts restlessly beneath him. 

“Do you think you can come for me again without embarrassing yourself?” 

“Oh god…” Martin gasps, his hips bucking reflexively. Jon parts his lips and takes Martin into his mouth once more, sucking him in long, lazy pulls as his hand fucks Martin carefully, kneading at the place that makes him whimper and writhe. 

Martin is moaning constantly now, his hips rolling against Jon’s mouth. His movements, the sounds he’s making, are so sensuous and desperate that Jon finds himself rubbing against the bedsheets, his cock swelling and wet heat flooding between his legs. For a moment he considers that he could climb up to straddle Martin’s thigh, rub off against him, fast and slick, but he dismisses the thought. This is about Martin, and though Martin likes it when he gets off as well, it’s a distraction he doesn’t need. Besides, contorting himself that way would be _asking_ for a strained wrist. 

He can feel Martin’s climax this time, starting deep in the core of him, flexing rhythmically around Jon’s hand as his moans turn to ragged cries, his whole body spasming and then clenching hard. 

“Fuck, ahh - ” Martin groans and tightens even more, and Jon realizes that he’s only barely holding back from pissing himself. The knowledge is irresistible, and this time Jon doesn’t give him any reprieve, keeps suckling gently at his cock, nosing at the wet heat of him, pushing his knuckles into Martin’s sweet spot, over and over. 

“Jon,” Martin gasps, writhing, “Jon, it’s too much, I can’t come again. I can’t - I can’t - I’ll, _fuck,_ I’m going to - ”

He breaks off with a strangled cry, his entire body shaking as orgasm rolls slowly, tortuously through him, and then he’s pushing Jon frantically away as his bladder lets go. Jon is still buried in him to the wrist and he watches, heart pounding, as the hot stream arcs gently from Martin’s body, splashing over Jon’s bare arm and soaking into the sheets, Martin trembling and moaning with his release. Eventually the stream dies away and Martin sinks back against the bed with a soft sigh. Jon feels hot all over. 

“Was that good?” he asks, and Martin gives a breathless giggle. 

“Was it - yes, Jon, _god,_ it was amazing. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m, uh, I’m going to pull my hand out now, all right? Try not to tense up.”

“I don’t think I could if I tried,” Martin says, and giggles again. Jon smiles. He likes when Martin gets like this after sex, dopey with endorphins. When he’s like this, he’s usually willing to let Jon take care of him, rather than protesting that he should be taking care of Jon or some nonsense. 

Martin is utterly relaxed, and Jon eases out of him slowly, careful of causing him any pain. Jon strips off the glove and tosses it in the bin near the bed, then gently tugs Martin to his feet. 

“Come on, time for a shower.”

Martin goes easily, if a little unsteadily, leaning against Jon. Once they’re both clean, Jon installs Martin on the sofa, wrapped in a thick bathrobe, mug of tea in hand and a nature documentary on the telly, while he tidies up. He strips off the wet sheets and the absorbent underpad they purchased just for this, and bundles them all into the washing machine. He’ll put fresh sheets on the bed later, but for now he goes back to the living room and slips onto the sofa beside Martin, picking up his own tea. 

“How are you?” he asks, pressing a kiss to Martin’s wet curls. Martin turns to him with a sweet, sated smile. 

“Lovely,” he says. “Well, a little bit sore, but that’s to be expected. How are you?”

“Good,” Jon tells him. “A bit worked up, actually, that was, ah, pretty intense.” 

“Oh!” Martin sounds surprised and pleased. “Did you - ”

“No, no. Maybe later.” Jon squeezes his thighs together experimentally beneath his own bathrobe, feeling the heat still curling there. His arousal is rarely an urgent thing, and the memory of Martin’s heated moans as he came apart under Jon’s mouth and hands will still be there later. Martin nods; he knows Jon prefers to take care of these things on his own, for the most part. He makes a soft, happy sound and takes Jon’s hand in his, pulls it up to press a kiss to his knuckles. 

“Mmm...such a talented hand…” he murmurs, and Jon smiles. Curls himself around Martin, warm and close as he can, loving the feel of Martin so relaxed and contented beneath him.

“Yours whenever you want it,” he teases. Martin laughs, and kisses his hand again.

“Maybe give me a couple of days to recover, first,” he says, “And then you’re on.”


End file.
